The Hero Came Riding
by Darth-Flatus
Summary: An adaptation of "The Highwayman". Harry visits Ginny before the final battle.


PART ONE

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,  
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,  
The stars were a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,  
And the hero, he came riding—  
Riding—riding—  
The hero, he came riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the rooftop he clattered and clashed to the dark inn-yard,  
And he tapped with his ring on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;  
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there  
But Ginny, the landlord's daughter,  
The landlord's doe-eyed daughter,  
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long red hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked  
Where Draco Malfoy listened; his face was white and peaked;  
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,  
But he loved the landlord's daughter,  
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,  
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the hero say—

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after his head tonight,  
But I shall be back with the vic'try before the morning light;  
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,  
Then look for me by moonlight,  
Watch for me by moonlight,  
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He rose upright on his broomstick; he scarce could reach her hand,  
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand  
As the red cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;  
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,  
(Oh, sweet, red waves in the moonlight!)  
Then he tugged at his broom in the moonlight, and sped away to the West.

PART TWO

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;  
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,  
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,  
An Eater troop came marching—  
Marching—marching—  
The Dark Lord's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,  
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;  
Two of them knelt at her casement, with wands red' at their side!  
There was death at every window;  
And hell at one dark window;  
For Gin could see, through her casement, the way that _he_ would fly.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;  
They had bound a wand beside her, the wandtip beneath her breast!  
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her.  
She heard the dead man say—  
_Look for me by moonlight;_  
_Watch for me by moonlight;_  
_I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!_

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!  
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat... or blood!  
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,  
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,  
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,  
The tip of one finger touched it! The wand at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!  
Up, she stood up to attention, the wandtip beneath her breast,  
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;  
For the way lay bare in the moonlight;  
Blank and bare in the moonlight;  
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .

_Whip-wip; Whip-wip!_ Had they heard it? The braches snapping clear;  
_Whip-wip, Whip-wip,_ in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?  
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,  
The hero, he came riding,  
Riding, riding!  
The Eaters looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

_Da-dum,_ in the frosty silence! _Da-dum,_ in the echoing night!  
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!  
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,  
Then her mouth, it moved in the moonlight,  
Her wandlight shattered the moonlight,  
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood  
Bowed, with her head o'er the wand now drenched with her own red blood!  
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear  
How Gin, the landlord's daughter,  
The landlord's doe-eyed daughter,  
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,  
With the white clouds smoking behind him and his wand-arm brandished high!  
Blood-red were his cheeks i' the golden noon; wine-red was his old, patched coat,  
When they shot him down by the highway,  
Down like a dog by the highway,  
And he lay in his blood by the highway, with her token at his throat.

_And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,  
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,  
When the stars are a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,  
A hero, he comes riding—  
Riding—riding—  
A hero, he comes riding, up to the old inn-door._

_Over the rooftop he clatters and clangs to the dark inn-yard;  
He taps with his ring on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;  
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there  
But Bess, the landlord's daughter,  
The landlord's doe-eyed daughter,  
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long red hair._


End file.
